


captive prince: an alternate reality.

by kortu



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kortu/pseuds/kortu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>damianos, prince of akielos is visiting vere, and after hearing so many tales, finally meets the thirteen year-old laurent, the little brother of the veretian crown prince, auguste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. meeting the prince.

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued. (chapter II is also finished, but let me know what you think!)

‘we hear that your prince,’ said damianos, ‘enjoys a challenge.’

he was standing in front of the veretian court with two men of his escort standing by his side. he was dressed in fine akielon riding clothes, that resembled simplicity. he left his royal badges in akielos, since visiting vere had started to feel like going home. he didn’t need armour or sword. he was on friendly, familiar grounds. 

the court was summoned in the royal garden, where damianos presented the great gift of akielos, two of the fittest, strongest horses that were meant for the akielon army, for the prince. their saddles were encrusted with expensive white gold. vere was known for their love of gold and jewellry, and dramatic, colouristic prestige.

the king was away, dealing with torveld of patras, so the crown prince auguste accepted the presents. after he publicly expressed his gratitude towards akielos, he stepped off the dais and walked towards damianos, slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder, and embraced him in a hug. 

‘i assumed these horses were meant for you, as a birthday gift,’ said auguste.  
damianos gave him a pitying look.  
‘at least now you can say your so-called army is worth something.’  
auguste let out an amused breath and slowly shook his head, firming his grip on damianos’s shoulder. when he looked up, his expression changed. he was looking in the distance, up the palace walls, but when damianos turned, he did not see anything.  
‘i think it’s time for you to meet someone’ was all auguste had said, before motioning damianos to follow him. he dismissed his attendants as he was leaving, who walked the horses out the garden, to the royal stables. the formalities were over.

auguste had led damianos to his private apartments and asked one of the servants for refreshments, on the way to his chamber. as he opened the door, he found a yellow-haired boy sitting on the windowsill, his feet tucked under him. he jumped down and went to greet the prince, but stopped when he saw the giant entering behind him he was looking at from the window. they were both the same height, yet the foreign prince had broader shoulders and somewhat more muscular arms. the boy straightened himself, and politely bowed his head. auguste held out his arm.  
‘damianos of akielos, i present you prince laurent of vere.’

damianos’s lips slightly parted. the boy’s smooth face showed excitement and a light shade of fear he had recognised from his own childhood: the discovery of something new. he had heard tales from auguste, but never thought they could be true. allegedly lords from the nearest kingdoms have been trying to court him, he was showered with compliments, and received a few royal gifts as well. damianos now understood why. 

auguste had believed, that the only reason the rest of the world did not show up in their kingdom, was because they were afraid of angering him. everybody knew that of the two of them, auguste was the protector. he would do anything for his little brother. 

laurent’s fine, fair skin was unmarked, his body seemed delicate and fragile, yet adequately proportioned. in a few years laurent would grow into an admirable young man. he realised he stepped out of his boundaries by staring, so he quickly narrowed his gaze, then looked at auguste, who was silently watching him.  
‘so you are the famous laurent,’ damianos began. ‘i have heard so much about you. your brother cannot stop talking about you.’  
laurent flushed, and awkwardly looked away.  
‘your plan for the maneuvre at marches had saved my brother’s life’, said laurent. ‘i feel honoured to finally meet you.’  
‘the honour is mine,’ auguste groaned, looking at the ceiling. ‘these formalities drive me mad. why don’t we do something fun?’  
the boy had pulled something out of his pocket, grinning mischievously. they were dices.

*

‘you know a young lad like yourself,’ said jord. ‘is supposed to avoid places like this.’  
damianos looked around the room which was filled with smoke and the disgusting smell of sweat mixed with spoiled, awful wine. he indeed agreed with the man, but hoped that auguste knew what he was doing. after all he was to become an exceptional leader who had everything under control, each and every man on the field. he chose to wait and see where the evening would go.  
laurent rolled the dice. his cool, blue eyes showed no emotions, not even when he took jord’s coins and slipped them in his pocket.  
‘you know, if a man like you had minded his own business, maybe he would have seen this coming.’  
auguste looked at laurent with a teasing smile, then back at damianos.  
‘i hope you came here with enough money, great prince, you might as well gamble your kingdom, for laurent there is no stopping.’

drinks have been poured, the men drank. the people around them acted like it was a regular night, three princes sitting at the table, winning ten times in a row. none of them seemed disturbed by the fact that they were gambling with royalty. even if they lost their money to the rich. they were enjoying themselves, laughing at laurent’s bitchy remarks, who, as the afternoon went on, started to sound like he has been raised in a brothel, not a palace.  
after the twelfth round, auguste walked over to his brother, and put a hand on his shoulder.  
‘i think it’s time for us all to retreat,’ he said. ‘haven’t you robbed enough men for one day?’  
laurent just sighed. he was too tired to argue with his brother, who was, fundamentally, right. 

after collecting all the money, he got up, and frustratedly noticed that his pockets were full of heavy gold coins and jewellry, that were pulling his pants down. he noted he would have to start using a belt, or bring a bag for all the riches he would win.  
they were just about to walk out the door, when one of the mercenaries yelled after them, then smashed his fist on the table, to prove that the dices that laurent gracefully forgot to put in his already packed pockets, could roll back into their original position on the tray.  
‘loaded dice!’  
without a word, laurent pulled up his pants and bolted out the door, tightly grabbing his pockets, and when another man sent a chair flying and moved towards them, auguste and damianos decided to take no risks, and ran after laurent.

heavy fog fell on the streets which made it harder to see, but after a two-minute sprint, laurent stopped by a corner and hid behind a wall of an old building to catch his breath, and tipped his head backwards while he was gasping for air. a few seconds later auguste found him and burst out laughing.  
‘are we safe?’ laurent asked, after a moment.  
auguste carefully peaked out. he knew the men would not remember a thing by tomorrow, but they would not want to face their foul mood, not in that second. foul was an understatement.  
damianos stayed silent and presented them with an odd look. after a while, he spoke. ‘i thought you had really beaten them,’ he said, half-disappointed, half-amazed.  
‘it’s the game i like,’ laurent said.


	2. a warm welcome.

the crown prince convinced damianos to stay for a few days, until the king’s return. it has been quite a long time since they have seen each other – since the finalisation of the treaty with the vaskian empire. damianos had sent one of his companions back home with the news. by the time he would leave, the man would arrive at the gates of ios.   
laurent was delighted when he had heard the foreign prince would stay as a guest in the castle, he was keen to learn everything there was to learn about the akielon kingdom.   
despite his age the little prince already spoke three languages – before the treaty, auguste had told him what he’d learnt from damianos; „knowing the language of the enemy is as important as knowing the language of a friend.” 

his words are perfectly pronounced, however he would never be mistaken for a vaskian due to his fair skin and yellow hair. the akielon is quite harder, though his vocabulary gained a few expressions when he had accompanied his brother to fortaine, to the veretian–akielon border and lurked among the soldiers, causing no more trouble than a berserk boar.

auguste had invited the boys to his training session in the backyard, where damianos chose to sit on a bench near the armoury. he knew the elegant, controlled, yet unpredictable veretian fighting style, he had even picked up a few things from auguste when they were sparring and training together. the akielon style is more dynamic, the soldiers tend to use brute force rather than studied and elegantly complicated movements. 

he was followed by laurent who sat down on the dais, settling a book in his lap. damianos remembered when he was ordered to take thick and heavy encyclopedias and history books with expounded strategies with himself, wherever he went. for a prince, knowing such things was not only necessary, but compulsory.   
judging its size, it must have been a storybook, although laurent seemed extremely mature for his age. damianos glanced behind him when auguste unsheated his sword after measuring his opponent.   
‘it’s about a boy, who hires a handful of mercenaries in order to save his sister’, said laurent after a few moments have passed. he’d seen damianos in his peripheral vision, silently trying to catch a few words to determine what kind of book he was reading. ‘and finds pirate life rather favourable.’  
damianos nodded. 

‘my brother gave it to me,’ he continued, then looked up at auguste, smoothly delivering a blow. the trainings were harmless, but auguste and nerios have known each other – their bodies, strengths and weaknesses –, and they couldn’t back down from a challenge. one of them always ended up going home with a bruised face or cut, swollen lip. damianos noticed that when laurent talked about his brother, his conversational tone suggested more than innocent fanaticism. 

nerios spat on the ground and grinned. he raised his left hand, motioning auguste to come at him.  
returning to the conversation, damianos asked, ‘what do you find favourable?’  
laurent rested his fingers on the soft brown pages of his book and carefully looked around as if his gaze might cause a slight disturbance. as his eyes wandered from the benches to the palace walls through the training yard and the garden, he straightened himself. at last, he fixed his gaze on auguste. ‘this,’ he said.  
damianos understood what he had meant, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if the child had any ambitions. he’d surely had when he was laurent’s age, but it was also true, that he was a first-born. he’d had to have them from day one.   
‘i hope you forgive me for speaking my mind, but,’ he didn’t know how to muster the words out. ‘the king must have expectations of you.’ he wished to know more about laurent’s situation, it was more than politeness. he knew auguste very well, he was destined to be a leader. he also knew that laurent couldn’t stay a child forever.   
‘no,’ laurent said, as if he was talking to the air. he didn’t look at damianos. but he continued. ‘the king does not. it’s him,’ and then he pointed at auguste. ’he wants to shape me. a little bit,’ he added. and he returned damianos’s look. ‘he urges me to improve, to prove myself. in front of...’ he lazily raised his hand. ‘this. vere. but i seek no approval. i know my worth.’   
when damianos nodded, he went on. ‘i don’t want to be someone i am not. the fame, the strength, the blood, that’s him.’  
‘then what are you?’ damianos asked, carefully.  
after a long moment laurent slowly shrugged and answered in a low voice, ‘i do not know.’  
damianos returned to watching auguste. 

the temperature dropped. they had probably an hour left before the sun’d fade below the horizon. he remembered he had not brought many akielon clothes with himself, thinking it would be an easy and quick visit. he wouldn’t admit it, but he would never wear veretian clothing, he found it rather annoying. his neck and limbs were bare, he was wearing a white cotton chiton with nothing but the red lion pin. he needed his jacket. it has been two days and he was already missing his home, the view from the palace to the sea and the shore by the island where the water was comfortably warm on a clear, sunny day.  
laurent broke the silence, eventually.  
‘have you always wanted this?’ he said.  
damianos answered without turning around, fixing his gaze on the older brother.   
‘i don’t remember wanting anything else.’ then, to make sure laurent understood what he’d meant, he rephrased it. ‘ever since i was born, our royalties, every member of the household, even the villagers have had said that i was destined to the throne. most importantly, my father, the king. it was the most significant thing he had taught me, i believe.’ he stopped as if just realising what he was really saying. ‘i don’t think i have ever thought there would be anything else for me.’  
he turned to face laurent, and said, ‘being a prince comes with a price. it is all right, if you do not feel drawn to the kingdom.’  
‘auguste says it is. he’s the only one who thinks it is’, he said, and added, almost awkwardly, ‘and, well, you.’  
‘you have more than enough time to decide who you want to be. your broth–’  
‘look!’ laurent pointed in the direction of the arena. ‘i love when he does that.’  
nerios was lying on the ground, auguste’s sword pointed at his throat and he slowly moved it to his belly. nerios, with his right foot, kicked auguste’s ankle that caused him to trip. as he was trying to regain his balance, nerios grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in auguste’s face.   
‘they always do this,’ said laurent, watching them, tightly gripping his book. ‘i don’t think they are actually training, they are just.. having fun.’  
‘are they training to be cowards?’ said damianos. he clearly wasn’t impressed by veretian ‘skills’.  
laurent carefully waited until damianos looked back at him, then tipped his head to one side and moved his eyes to meet the prince’s. ‘they’re training to win.’


	3. Chapter 3

after another round they returned to the royal dining room where the servants had brought exotically seasoned cuisines in veretian style, smoked chicken with fruits and sweetmeat. instead of formal sitting they took the chairs and moved them closer so they could enjoy dinner in an intimate, familiar mood. auguste had left after they had emptied the wine pitcher, to seek out paschal, his physician. he had only suffered a bruised jaw and a cut forearm, nothing he couldn’t handle, but as the crown prince, his skin needed to be carefully mended. 

by the time he got back to his chamber, laurent and damianos bathed, were dressed in nightgowns and took up the majority of the space on his bed. laurent’s head was propped on his elbows as he was listening to damianos talking about their latest adventures.  
‘brother, you did not tell me about the pig at lys!’ said laurent.  
auguste gave damianos a look, and looked back at laurent.  
‘it was a distraction’, auguste replied.  
‘and it worked,’ added damianos. ‘i do not agree with veretian techniques, but this time it proved to be effective.’  
‘thank you, laurent.’  
damianos’s eyes narrowed.  
after a moment, auguste said, ‘it was his idea. not the pig, not exactly. the distraction. i knew there would be men watching us in the mountains. a horse without a rider would have been a little bit salient, suspicious even. we only needed a moment to strike, but we couldn’t risk them raise the alarm.’  
damianos’s mouth hung open.  
‘since when do you talk about strategics with laurent?’  
he’d suspected that laurent is wiser than his age, but he looked at him in a new light now.  
‘trust me,’ auguste said, ‘sometimes he proves to be a better commander than you are.’  
laurent’s face went red.  
‘that idea was brilliant!’ said damianos, after a moment had passed. ‘i thought your brother had come up with it. i should have known he’s not smart enough for that.’  
auguste shook his head but the corners of his lips curled upwards.  
he joined them on the bed; laurent was half sitting, half lying down now at the end of the bed, while damianos was sitting with his back to the bedframe. auguste chose to sit next to the prince.  
‘tell me about the story of inachtos,’ said laurent.  
‘you’ve heard it a million times before,’ said auguste.  
then laurent gave auguste a look, one that damianos had not seen before. he raised and furrowed his eyebrows, pouted his lips a little which made him seem like a sad puppy.  
‘oh, do not pull that look on me.’  
laurent pushed it a little bit. his lips started trembling.  
‘will you stop it.’  
‘i’ll tell you,’ damianos said.  
laurent’s expression changed in a fraction of a second, he dropped the miserable, begging face and his eyes lit up. he turned his gaze to damianos instead. 

‘the battle of acquitart had happened a long time ago, before any kind of treaty existed between the nations’, damen said, casually thowing one arm over his raised leg. ‘inachtos was a great veretian soldier with only one goal in mind: he wanted to chase the akielons all the way back to the island of isthima. his sheer power of will and strength had killed hundreds of us. the akielons however managed to cut him off from his allies, and only one warrior was able to defeat him, nisos, kyros of thrace.’  
laurent was very still while he talked, auguste silently watching him. 

damianos went on. ‘when his body was returned to the nearest village, the commoners wept and mourned for days. mourned his death, mourned for their destroyed homes and taken women, murdered sons. after the akielons had returned to their country, inachtos’s body had been burnt and his ashes had been buried on a handful of land in the heart of the village which later became a garden. slowly, over time they had rebuilt the houses, and now the garden in the centre is the most beautiful thing in acquitart where flowers grow and trees burst into colour in the spring. although inachtos had failed and hundreds were killed, he’s a symbol of new hope and gives strength to the people.’

laurent was motionless, a shy smile hovering over his lips. damianos knew exactly what laurent was thinking. he’s got used to being in the center of attention, feeling all eyes on him as he walked into a room or talked. laurent was looking at him with the same distant admiration, as one might look at something unfamiliar, projecting security. as he and auguste exchanged a look, damianos could almost hear auguste’s thoughts.  
‘one day,’ said laurent, ‘your name will be written in epics, brother.’  
‘we all know that fame comes with a price, laurent,’ said auguste. ‘i would rather stick around for a while, before it takes me away from you.’  
laurent shook his head. ‘nothing will take you from me.’ and then, to damianos: ‘you have seen him fight. he is the best in our country, in the north, wouldn’t you say?’  
before damianos could answer, auguste raised a hand. ‘that does not mean invincible. laurent, being aware of your capabilities is a virtue, but you must not be overconfident. you might be right. maybe i am,’ he stopped for a second to look at damianos, ‘the strongest among us... but in relativity, someone is always stronger.’  
‘your brother is right, little prince,’ said damianos. ‘that someone, in this case, happens to be me.’  
‘is that right?’ said auguste, with a grin on his face. ‘i’d welcome the chance to put you in the dirt. where you belong.’

damianos had missed this, the playful, teasing exchanges between brothers. it was easy to forget that their countries had been allies only. in these rare moments damianos found himself looking at auguste as he would look at kastor, appreciatively, with respect and pride in his eyes. i would fight for him, he thought, i would defend him with my life.  
‘i accept your challenge, prince auguste,’ damianos said.

*

the next morning at breakfast, auguste had reminded damianos of his promise. auguste had important duties in the afternoon, but if damianos insisted, he could drag him to the ground, auguste had said.

laurent, being laurent, could not miss the opportunity to see his brother embarrassing someone on the field. he had attended all of auguste’s trainings, he was so excited by their challenge, he even forgot to bring his current favourite book. damianos watched him as he elegantly took a seat by the dais, where they had been sitting the other day, and composed himself in a relaxed posture.

taking damianos’s advice, auguste had left the complicated laces behind, he was wearing dark trousers for riding, boots and a simple, tightly laced white shirt. damianos, in his sandalled feet and white chiton, came forward and offered his hand, as was the custom in akielos. then, before auguste could have made a move, damianos reached up to his collarbone, removed his lion pin and the chiton dropped onto the ground, followed by auguste’s jaw.

and then he realised what he had done.

nudity never bothered him. in his homeland, he was bathed by slaves ever since he was a child, with his friends they would often roll around naked under the summer sun, bathe in the river, and of course, wrestle. but vere was not akielos. as he reached down to pick his chiton up and fastidiously wrap it around himself, he saw laurent swiftly turning his head, flushed, and not from the heat.  
auguste had suddently become very interested in watching the sun rising above the clouds, then, after damianos restored his clothing, he took a glance at laurent, carefully looking back at him. and then they began.

auguste stepped forward first, instead of grabbing him, he was tasting his opponent from afar. he knew damianos’s body, they had been sparring together, learning each other’s tricks. it was not going to be simple. they walked a small circle without even touching the other, then damianos, getting bored, took a hurried step forward, and got a hold of auguste’s arms. he could feel auguste’s muscles as he reached for damianos’s shoulders. he was a strong, well proportioned fighter who has been training from a very young age. he knew he was stronger than auguste, they had proved it multiple times, yet it was something to be played every once in a while. he thought he would let auguste sweat a little, before taking him down. 

it had lasted about three minutes, then, when auguste had tried to use his foot, damianos reached under auguste’s left arm and with a fast push, he knocked him down, putting his knee on auguste’s chest as they landed.  
‘yield,’ said damianos.  
auguste said, out of breath, ‘laurent, a little help here.’

damen carefully put his weight in a single push, keeping auguste on the ground, and hastily glanced at laurent, awkwardly half-sitting, half-standing by the dais, his fingers gripping the wood behind him. he could see it on his face, the attentive admiration, the shock caused by his brother losing against him, the un-selfconscious look of a worried boy.  
he returned his gaze to auguste and repeated himself. ‘yield.’

auguste tried to look behind damianos, but before he could move, he felt a forceful push in his chest, restraining him even more powerfully, then lifting. he felt damianos’s body detaching, as laurent jumped on him from behind, and with all his weight pulling him down. auguste quickly got on his feet, and did the only thing he thought logical: following laurent’s example, he tackled damianos, taking him down and pinning him to the ground, laurent holding his arms down, auguste his chest.  
‘who’s yielding now?’

damianos let out a breath as he looked up at the brothers above him. he felt dizzy by laurent’s daring, in akielos, they would have been laughed at, for fighting like cowards, but this was too playful and innocent to be mistaken for anything else. laurent was almost panting, his golden hair fell into his face. he really needed all his strength to take damianos down, the only reason he managed to do that, was because he was taken by surprise.  
‘i yield,’ damianos said.

laurent got up first, quickly straightened himself and tucked his hair behind his ears. he was followed by auguste; as he stood next to laurent, he put a hand on laurent’s shoulder and watched damianos sprawling on the ground, with lazy content in his eyes.  
‘is this the first time,’ said laurent, feeling even more courageous by the touch of his brother’s hand. ‘you have been beaten by a thirteen year-old?’  
‘technically...’ said damianos, but he cut himself off. it seemed too sweet to agree with laurent. ‘i can’t help but think that in a fair fight, it would have ended differently.’

he saw it then, that single flash in laurent’s eyes as he gave himself over to a thought that damianos could not quite grab, he could only feel the sudden determination in laurent. he raised his chin, and said, ‘one day i will beat you in a fair fight, prince damianos.’  
he sat up, took the hand that reached for him, and steadied himself.  
‘call me damen.’


End file.
